


A Break for Work

by krysnel_nicavis



Series: Supernatural 31 Day Place Challenge (January 2017) [31]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 31 Day Place Challenge, Angst, Gen, Introspection, Medical Examiner!Dean Winchester, Post-Season/Series 12, Sour Candies, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Wordcount: 100-500, hints at destiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-12-20 11:59:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11920446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krysnel_nicavis/pseuds/krysnel_nicavis
Summary: They decide to take a break from hunting. Dean gets a job to pass the time.





	A Break for Work

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "January 31 Day Place Challenge"
> 
>  **Day 31:** Coroner's Office
> 
> ****  
> (Set Post-Season 12)

If there was one thing he’d learned in all his years of interacting with cops, it was that nearly everyone had a weak spot for gummy candies. Particularly the sour kind. He kept a jar of them in his office for whenever the local officers dropped by to discuss a case. And if there was one thing he’d learned in all his years as a hunter, it was how to recognize wound patterns. It was kind of surprising how easily he was able to determine cause of death, even when the cause was natural. Course, his years in hell had been particularly educational. Despite how he’d let Sammy do most of the poking and prodding when it came to examining corpses, he knew his way around human anatomy. Jury was still out on whether or not that was a good thing.

Dean took a new bag of Sour Cherry Blasters out of his desk drawer and emptied it into his candy jar with the bag of Sour Patch Kids. When they’d finally decided they needed a real, honest break from hunting, he hadn’t known what to do with himself. Sammy was back at the bunker geeking out over inventory with _him_. _He_ had stayed as well to help. To _learn_.

Dean felt his chest constrict and pushed the thoughts from his mind. Those thoughts disrupted the tranquility he’d managed to find in this place.

When Donna had admitted she was in need of a new medical examiner, he’d offered to try it out until she’d found someone more suited to the position. (Technically speaking, he had all training in forensic pathology. He had obtained as much of the schooling online from various institutions as he was able, making up for the majority of the rest through independent study of textbooks on his e-reader, and had a lifetime of practical experience. He just lacked the official degree.) He didn’t think she’d agree. Sam had forged whatever necessary documents he needed to allow him to legitimately get the job. After a crash course to remind him of certain procedures, he’d taken to it like a natural. So he spent his days bagging and tagging samples, and examining dead bodies.

And fed sour candies to cops.

If, at the end of the day, he headed back to his apartment alone and pretended he didn’t see the tan trench coat with the hole torn in the back hanging in his front closet, well, it wasn’t like there was anyone around to judge.

He sat in his living room after work, listening to Led Zeppelin and nursing a glass of whisky. The room illuminated by a single dim bulb in a cheap second-hand lamp on the side table. He rubbed a hand down his face, scrubbing at the beard he hadn’t shaved in weeks, and pretended he hadn’t just skipped dinner for the… oh, who knows how many times it’s been this week… He sighs and takes another drink.

\- 30 -


End file.
